The air presses down on my lungs, thick with an unsettling weight, as if the very earth above is aware of our presence. Each breath is slow, laboured, filled with a dusty stillness that carries the scent of something long forgotten. The glowing stick that Mia holds is the only source of light. We walk around the stone cave slab for a few feet to establish an idea of how stable we are underneath who knows how much weight in sand.


"The slab looks like it's part of something bigger." She slams her foot against the stone slab a couple of times.


"Don't tempt fate! We are lucky we aren't down there." I point into the deep, blackened abyss.


She looks into the abyss below and pulls out another stick. She shakes it to glow like the other, tossing it down into the blackness. It bounces back and forth down the seemingly endless way down. The light finally halts with a very quiet tap. The sound echoes in the distance.


"That's a long way down..." Mia says.


"Right?" I chuckle nervously, though the sound feels hollow in the heavy silence.


"Any ideas?" she asks.


"Have a couple of shovels?" I ask.


"That's all you have for ideas?" She answers my question with her own.


"I figure we could dig our way to the surface." I reply.


"That would probably take weeks." She says flatly.


"Then what's your big idea?" I ask.


She begins pacing. I can't help but watch. Back and forth. Forth and back. Like a metronome keeping time. The motion is hypnotic, lulling me into a daze. My thoughts feel slow, my mind weighed down by an invisible force.


"Something wrong?" Mia asks, noticing my vacant stare.


I don't know why, but something is off. A strange pressure builds behind my eyes, my thoughts slipping like sand through my fingers. Each inhale feels heavier, my limbs sluggish, my mind caught in a haze. It’s not exhaustion—it’s something else. Something wrong.


"The air..." She says to herself, realization dawning.


She drops her pack in a fraction of a moment. Sifting through it, she pulls out a silver cylinder only a few inches tall and a few inches wide. It opens at the top and expands into a meshed bowl-shaped piece on a rod that extends outward. The contraption begins whirring gently. I take a deep breath as the air begins to feel lighter. Each breath becomes easier until it feels as though I am on the surface again.


Mia looks at me with concern. I nod. She smirks. She returns to pacing, but this time I don’t feel the same dizziness watching her movements. The machine keeps running, the sound of its gentle hum grounding me.


"So what is that?" I ask.


"It's pretty well a carbon filter for it to recycle the oxygen in the air. It was a project they were planning on using for the I.S.P.O.T.N."


"The I.S.P.O.T.N.?" I ask.


"International Space Program Of The Nations," she clarifies.


"Seems a bit redundant." I laugh.


"The Old World hardly made sense, even with what I know of it."


"I see."


We stay in silence. I sit on the slab and sigh, my mind racing through every possibility. There has to be a way. Climbing is out of the question—there’s no grip, no stable footing to even attempt it. Digging could take weeks, maybe longer, and we don’t have that kind of time. I rub my temples, frustration clawing at the edges of my thoughts. The weight of the situation presses on me, heavier than the sand above. If we don’t figure something out soon, the Badlands will claim us like so many before. I exhale sharply, forcing myself to focus. There has to be something we’re missing.


"What a way to go." Mia says as she sits beside me.


"What do you mean?"


"We aren't getting out of here alive, Etha." She presses the opinion.


"No, we just haven't figured it out yet." I snap.


She looks at me in shock, her eyes widening as if she’s seeing me in a new light. Her lips part slightly, but no words come out. She shifts her weight, arms crossing defensively before uncrossing just as quickly, like she’s unsure how to react. Her fingers twitch at her side, like she wants to reach for something—maybe her pack, maybe me, maybe just something solid to ground herself. Either the fact I refuse to die is shocking or the fact I won't let her give up causes the expression on her face. Just because we aren't with ideas now doesn't make us hopeless.


"Where did that come from?" she asks.


"I am not gonna die here when we are just outside of New Boston..." I say.


As I finish my sentence, it occurs to me that we do know a way out. We have been overlooking it all this time. It's obvious now.


"I don't know what you're thinking, but you need to share." Mia clearly sees my face change to dawning realization.


"What if we dig into the slab?" I grin.


"We fall into whatever is under it, if it's not solid ground." Mia says.


"What do you think the odds are we are just above a cave system?" I elaborate more.


"Actually, considering that we just fell into this one, I would say pretty good." She replies.


"Got shovels?" I ask.


"Better, thanks again to Ark Tech." She grins, her entire top row of teeth revealed like sparkling diamonds.


Even in the dim glow of our surroundings, her smile shines—bright, unwavering. It's more than just confidence. There's something magnetic about her, something that makes me trust her without hesitation. I wonder if she knows just how much I rely on her. The way her eyes light up when she talks about the Old World, the determination in her every movement—it's captivating. I tell myself it's just admiration, but the way my heart beats a little faster when she grins makes me question if it's something more.


She leans into the pack she places upon the ground in search of something from within. She rustles through it and sighs before she rustles through it again. It seems she has misplaced something within the pack or forgot to bring it along.


"C'mon..." she groans to herself.


A low, serpentine hiss slithers up from the depths, winding through the air like a whisper meant only for us. My skin prickles, and an involuntary shiver runs down my spine. The darkness below feels heavier now, more alive, as if something ancient has stirred. My breath catches in my throat, the weight of unseen eyes pressing down on me. Whatever is down there... knows we're here.


"Aha!" Mia shouts, pulling a pen out and holding it above her head triumphantly.


"So, what are we gonna do with a pen?" I ask.


"This one isn't any regular pen." She laughs.


She clicks the pen’s button, and a low hum vibrates through the air. A crackling blue glow spreads across the stone, sizzling like embers on dry wood. A second later, the center of the slab collapses inward, a perfect circle dropping away into the dark. The smell of scorched rock lingers in the air.


"What exactly made that happen?" I ask.


"Sound frequency activated acids." She smiles.


"That sounds really cool, but crazy dangerous." I smirk.


"Why do you think I say seeing the Old World is dangerous in ways?" she laughs.


We walk to the new hole and take turns fitting through it. Mia goes first. I hear her grunt as she lands and steps aside. I don’t need to shout at her; she is safe just based on the sound of movement. I follow after her.

As I look up from the ground, I see all kinds of weird relics I’ve never seen before. Walls all around are a deep, reddened purple colour. The floors lay checkered with black and white. We really have found a piece of the Old World. It may not be the piece we intended to go to, though. I feel like Mia sees this as an opportunity.


"Cool," she whispers, almost inaudibly.


"This is the Old World, isn't it?" I ask.


"A very small piece of it," she nods.


A deep unease settles in me. From somewhere deep below, we can hear the echoes of hissing in the depths of the structure. I shudder for a moment, only able to guess what may be lurking within this place. The sound grows sharper, closer, and my pulse quickens. Whatever is down there isn’t just waiting—it’s moving.